Safe, for a night
by Brooklyn Blue
Summary: "I've always been there for you, Carla, right back to when we were kids." - A quick glimpse into the day of two girls growing up together through the hardships of estate life.


**A/n; Another quick one shot to hopefully quell my writer's block. I've always been interested in the Connor's backstory and after reading 'Love You Like a Sister' by the amazingly talented TheLyricsAreMyStory, I was inspired. It isn't the super dramatic or gripping novel that we've been gifted by Han, just my little take on one of the days in the life of our two favourite girls. I hope you all enjoy the read.**

It was the worst place to grow up. The sort of place that ripped childhood from you early, dashed your dreams and stole your hope, because you'd already seen the worst of what the world had to offer and it didn't seem like there was much chance of escape.

There were three blocks of flats, forming an 'L' shape with what was supposed to be a communal garden. The grass was pale and overgrown, weeds and thistles spiking up from around the concrete slabs which separated into three paths, leading up to each of the building entrances. Though the council had tried to make it family friendly, by sticking a slide, two swings and a see-saw into the middle of the patch, a couple of benches for parents to sit and watch their kids; the swing seats had been stolen, the slide was rusting underneath where the blue paint was peeling away and the whole of the outdoor play area had been tagged in graffiti, some of it created by Carla's younger brother. Although beneath the browning, metal slope, if you knew where to look, there was a roughly sketched heart, rough because it had been painted on using Michelle's neon pink nail polish and crammed within the outline, a tiny ' _M & C' _had been carefully constructed. There hadn't been room to scrawl the letters _BFF_ within it, but Carla had used a shard of glass from a smashed beer bottle to scratch the letters into the metal beside it. She said she'd liked that, the paint could get covered, washed away, but their friendship was etched into the metal permanently, which meant they had to be best friends, forever.

Carla's best friend was currently positioned out on the balcony, gazing across to the building just to the left of her. It stood alone literally and figuratively; there was a tighter sense of community between the two blocks of flats which were practically adjoined as opposed to the other lone structure. It was known that the flats there were cheaper, smaller, free from the balconies that Michelle was currently occupying. Although, that might have been a good thing, with the states Carla's mother got into, and Carla herself, she shuddered at the thought of what might happen if they did have the ability to topple over the edge of it and hurtle three floors to the ground.

"Michelle! I won't tell you again. Get back inside!" Helen hissed, having slid the door open to where her youngest child was stood, listening to the noise across from them.

The shouting had been going on for well over half an hour now, the raised voices of Carla's mother, stepfather and sometimes Carla herself carrying across to the other flats. Michelle had been pacing worriedly, nibbling at the skin on her lower lip, trying to catch sight of what was going on. It was only when the sound of breaking glass cut through the air that Helen had come to summon her daughter back inside. She feared that the fifteen year old girl might end up witness to something no child should even have to.

"Someone has to go over, we can't just stand here!" Michelle cried out, her wide hazel eyes terrified as she looked at her mother imploringly.

"Don't be so silly!" She shook her head, looking at the young girl as though she was insane. "Goodness knows what's going on in there-"

"Exactly and Carla's right in the middle of it!" Michelle argued, her lower lip trembling with emotion as her brain whirled with all the paranoid consequences of what may happen from the outcome of the slanging match across the grass, each one more disturbing than the next. Whether the argument was with Carla or whether the young girl was trying to get between one, neither outcome would fair well for the poor girl and it was setting Michelle's nerves on edge.

"Just come inside away from it, it's not good for you to worry like this. Not in your... _condition."_ It looked as though she'd struggled to get the words out and Michelle's hand fell defensively to her stomach.

There was barely anything there, unless you knew, you wouldn't have been able to tell that tucked up within her was a tiny bundle of joy. Or bundle of shock. Bundle of _shame._ It had been a tense household since Michelle had finally confessed that she was pregnant several weeks prior. Helen had been prone to random outbreaks of rage or tears, while Barry had darted between calming her down and trying to counsel Michelle. He meant well, but she'd soon learnt to dash off and avoid his little pep talks; she already knew what she wanted to do. No one was going to convince her otherwise. Young or not.

"Then just send Paul over to check, or our Liam, or da-"

"Do you really think I'm going to let any of our family go around to that mad house when Sharon and George are in that state?"

"But, Carla-"

"Could well be the cause of it all, you know what girl's like for trouble. I mean it, Michelle, get inside."

Blinking back tears, Michelle had no other option than to follow Helen's orders. With one wistful glance back towards where she could still hear the screech or Carla's mother, she reluctantly shuffled back into her own flat. It turned out she couldn't have begged either or her brothers to go across to Carla's anyway, neither of them were in the bedroom Liam and Paul shared, so her plan of winding one of them around her finger was obliterated.

There was a gentle tap on the door and Michelle sat up from her bed, where she'd been sulking and worrying for the last half hour. She'd refused to come out for her tea, even when her mother had snippily reminded her that she was eating for two, along with a jibe about how she was going to have to learn to be more mature than this now that she was going to be a parent.

"What?" She muttered, watching moodily as her father's face came into view. His expression was soft, a kind smile across his face as he peered in through the gap he'd created.

"Look who I found," he spoke gently, pushing the door further open, causing his daughter to jump up onto her feet.

" _Carla!"_ She squeaked in relief, dashing over to her friend and instantly pulling her into a crushing hug. "Are you okay?" Michelle began fussing almost immediately, stepping back to examine her. The older girl didn't look hurt, although she did look worn and tired. She was dressed in a sloppy grey hoodie that Michelle knew belonged to Rob. There were holes in the sleeves, made worse by Carla's habit of anxiously picking at them. She was in black leggings, though they were splashed with stains, stray hairs and flecks of fluff from the carpet littered the cotton. Dark hair was thrown carelessly off of her face and tied up in a clumsy ponytail, it made her features look sharp, prominent; she was pale, the absence of make up highlighting the deep shadows beneath her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she shrugged, stepping into Michelle's bedroom. Barry had turned up at her door completely unannounced, he'd been tactful about it, made out that Michelle was feeling lonely and wondered if Carla could keep her company for the evening. It was a clever cover, if he'd have admitted he was coming to check up on Carla, it would have only agitated George further. He'd have accused the girl of telling tales, as if the whole estate couldn't hear them all screaming at one another. It made is less embarrassing too, for her at least. Carla knew Barry was only helping her out of sheer pity, she could see it in his eyes, he was so much kinder than his wife. Telling her that it was Michelle who'd wanted to see her made her feel more dignified about accepting his offer of an escape from the madness. It had been a bold move on his part, stopping the three of them mid meltdown and taking Carla away from it; Helen would be fuming.

It was Friday night and every alternate weekend, her little brother went to stay with his own dad. Carla had tagged along one time, but it was clear she wasn't welcome there, she wasn't even sure Rob had been, but at least he was real family. Carla scoffed at the thought. _Real family._ Like that actually made a difference.

"I was worried about you." Michelle mumbled, nodding at her father who quietly excused himself, telling Carla to make herself at home. She half considered throwing in a joke about getting wasted and causing a fight, but she didn't have the heart to.

"Well, no need." Her voice was monotone, she hadn't even returned the hug Michelle had bundled her up in, her arms had hung limply by her side. The younger girl suddenly gazed into her face, concern plastered over her features.

"Carla, you haven't taken... You're not drunk or anything...?"

"Of course I didn't take anything!" Carla suddenly snapped out of the trance like state, looking outraged at the accusation. "I've seen what that stuff does, I want nothing to do with it! Nothing."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't. You just seem... Come on, sit down. Come here." Michelle rambled quickly, taking her hand and pulling her over to her bed, trying to calm her down before she could get really wound up. It happened, Carla was prone to bursts of rage, especially after she'd been the target of someone else's, unable to defend herself properly. It was like she needed to grab that control back, lash out at someone who couldn't smash her face in.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Michelle offered carefully, unsurprised when her best friend shook her head firmly. It was rare she ever spoke about it straight away and the younger girl always gave her the choice, she always let her decide and never contradicted her answer.

"No, it was nothing." It was uttered through gritted teeth, Carla was staring out of Michelle's bedroom window, which had a view of the other building, with pure hatred in her eyes, absentmindedly pushing back the sleeves of the hoodie she was wearing, her fists clenched as though preparing herself for a fight.

Michelle swallowed, unable to stop her dark eyes from falling to the bruises dotted along Carla's arms. She refrained from reaching out to her, her best friend had a tendency to mistake care for pity and the younger girl didn't want to upset her further. It wasn't unusual for her to have them, she was always picking them up after falling over drunk; Carla was too thin for her frame, malnourished and probably lacked in every vitamin she needed, she bruised far too easily. But these ones were purposeful, she'd been grabbed and thrown carelessly, tossed aside like the rag doll that had dropped off of Michelle's bed. It was tatty, with blonde, stringy pigtails under a white frilled bonnet, a pink floral dress with an underskirt made from the same white material as the garment on its head. Michelle's grandmother had made it, the delicate blush had worn from its cheeks and one of the seams from the dolls stitched cotton eyes had come loose. It had been Helen's as a child and she had passed it on when her own daughter came along. It was missing a sock, but every time Carla saw it, she was reminded of the sentimental value it possessed. She could never imagine her own mother passing anything down to her other than rubbish genetics and a tendency to drink. She bent down and picked the doll up, smoothing out its dress and fiddling with the bow sewn into the collar of it.

"How's the little bean doing?" Carla diverted the subject quickly, moving to rest her hand over the barely-there bulge that rounded Michelle's stomach, giving it a gentle pat.

"A lot better than you." The other girl answered pointedly, though brought her own had up to rest over Carla's, squeezing it comfortingly. She didn't reject the contact, which Michelle took as a good sign.

"Still no word from Dean?" The older girl asked carefully, not wanting to unsettle the waters herself. It was a touchy subject.

"He's just in shock, he'll come around. He's scared..."

"Scared than Paul and Liam will knock his block off. Besides, you're scared too. Only you don't get the luxury of running from this." Carla let out a dry laugh, shaking her head at the other girls boyfriend's cowardice. Although, she understood in a way; getting an underage girl pregnant wasn't his most sensible move, it certainly hadn't increased his popularity. That said, she hated him for having left her best friend alone in the situation, even if he had insisted he loved Michelle despite needing to 'lay low' until things calmed down.

"It's my mum he should be scared of."

Carla couldn't help but laugh, placing the doll back down against the pillow. True, out of all of the Connor family, Helen was probably the one Carla feared most too. She was definitely the one she seemed to wind up the most. There was a mutual dislike between the pair of them and Carla guessed it would always be that way. Especially when Helen thought she was hellbent on leading her precious Michelle astray.

"You know, I reckon if it weren't for the fact that it is physically and biologically impossible, I swear she'd have blamed me for getting you pregnant."

Michelle burst out laughing, giving the older girl a slight nudge with her elbow. "She already does! You were the one who introduced me to all those nasty, older boys." She grinned, leaning back against the mattress with a hum of amusement, absentmindedly stroking her abdomen.

"Are you scared?" Carla suddenly asked, stretching out next to her, turning to face the younger girl with a semi serious expression on her face. She knew she would be, if the role was reversed, she knew full well that she'd be kicked out onto the street.

"Terrified," Michelle admitted, knowing it was no use lying. Who would be terrified? There were adults who got themselves into situations like this and were scared senseless. "I'm scared of labour, I'm scared that Dean won't come back, I'm scared of what everyone at school will say..." she trailed off, pressing her lips together in thought. She was silent for a moment, before confessing quietly into the room. "I'm scared something might happen, that I'll do something wrong, because I do want this baby. And I'll do it on my own if it comes down to it." There was a fierce determination in her eyes, her jaw set as she nodded assertively, her eyes dropping down to where she'd pulled up the T Shirt was was wearing. It oversized, it was Liam's, despite the fact she was barely showing and her own clothes still fit her fine. At eight weeks, only a subtle swelling was noticeable, though it felt firm to the touch.

"You won't be on your own." Carla murmured, her own fingertips trailing curiously over Michelle's stomach, pressing ever so carefully against the bump, fascinated by the change that was taking place already. It was hard to imagine that she had once started out like that. She wondered if her own mother had marvelled at the life that was growing inside her, held herself affectionately the way Michelle was doing, wondering if she'd ever spoke so protectively, loved her before she'd even known her. Probably not, it was a miracle Carla had survived at all; she must have left the womb already sloshed. "You've got your family. You've got me, too."

"Yeah I can just picture you wiping up sick at three in the morning," Michelle laughed, though her face suddenly fell as she realised that was effectively what Carla had been doing for most of her life. Whether it was her mother's, George's Rob's, her own, even Michelle's on occasion.

"Hey, I reckon I'd be a dab hand!" Carla propped herself up on an elbow, refusing the let the mood sour. "I'm used to being up all hours, I'm an expert at mixing drinks so I'd have no bother with that formula stuff. Hey, I'd even tell you that you were still a cracking ten out of ten, even when you're twice the size with swollen feet and you can't keep toast down." She tugged her own ponytail across her face, situating it just beneath her nose. "I could be daddy if Deano let's you down. I make a pretty hot guy don't I?" Carla pouted from beneath the mass of hair, raising an eyebrow cockily, dramatically deepening her voice. "Come 'ere, babydoll," she teased as she dipped forward, pretending to kiss her.

"Carla!" Michelle squealed, dissolving into a fit of giggles as she tried to fend the other girl off, having received a mouthful of straggly dark hair. "Is that vodka or hairspray?" She grimaced, trying to wipe the taste off her tongue.

"No idea, could be either." Carla shrugged, giving her a gentle prod in the cheek as she flopped back down beside her, flipping her hair out of the way.

"Hey, if you're staying, why don't I run you a bath?"

"Is that your subtle way of telling me I'm disgusting?" Carla rolled her eyes, pulling away from the other girl defensively. "Who said I was staying here?"

"No." Michelle insisted, reaching out and giving her hair a playful tug. "It's my way of saying take advantage of the hot water and keep your best friend company while her daft brother's are out. I'll be lonely without anyone to wind up."

Without waiting for Carla to answer, she pulled herself from the bed and rummaged in her drawers. Michelle's bedroom was pretty. Pretty and clean. Although the family had found themselves in circumstances which had rendered them unfortunate enough to end up having to live on the estate, if there was one thing the Connor's were good at, it was making the most out of a situation. Helen was strictly house proud, spent her days cleaning and organising, making sure her children took their shoes off before walking across the living room carpet. There was a single speck of dust in sight.

The room Carla sat in was small, but fresh and bright. She was crossed legged against soft, grey, sheets, patterned with white musical notes. There were pastel purple fluffy cushions that decorated Michelle's bed, matching the colour of the walls, and a single silver sequinned star one that had been added to the collection by Carla herself. She'd stolen it from school, it had been a prop from a nativity play, suspended in the air from the school assembly hall ceiling; a pillow being the safest option should it drop down and hit someone. After Michelle had won the school talent show, Carla had snuck into the storeroom behind the hall and plucked the cushion from its resting spot on a shelf, her defence being it had only been sat there gathering dust. Plus, Michelle had loved it when she'd given it to her, it had taken pride of place in the middle of her bed ever since.

The older girl was always amazed that the pretty white drawers and metal bed frame actually stayed so clean. How did Michelle manage it? Well, with a family who weren't raging addicts and alcoholics she supposed. That said, there was now a small purple rug that covered a portion of the grey carpet where Michelle had accidentally knocked over her nail polish. Carla knew if she peeled it back, she'd see the bright pink stain crusting up the once fluffy fibres.

"Here," Carla was pulled from her thoughts when Michelle dropped a pair of pyjamas into her lap; navy and white checked shorts with a white crochet trim and a matching navy T shirt. "You can keep them, they're too small for me. And they'll only get smaller."

She reached out for the other girls hand once more, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Where are your brothers tonight, anyway?" She asked, allowing Michelle to pull her up from the bed and lead her across to the bathroom. It was nothing like the one Carla used at home every morning. There was no black mound around the edge of the bath here, no slimy scum coating the sink, no crack in the mirror.

"Paul's gone out with people from his work and Liam's staying over at his mates." Michelle shrugged, raising her voice as she switched on the taps, tipping some of her mother's special rose scented bubble bath into the steaming water.

"She'll kill you." Carla nodded, a wry grin forming across her lips. She couldn't help egging Michelle on with anything that would wind Helen up.

"It's Friday night, she'll have gone off to Aunty Lou's to drink gin and complain about how we're all winding her up." Michelle shrugged, knowing it'll have been part of the reason why her dad had been able to sneak off around to get Carla at all. Checking that the bath was sufficiently full and with a thick layer of sweet smelling bubbles coating the surface, Michelle twisted the taps back off and pointed to the towel that was folded across the radiator. "Take your time, I'm going to make us something to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Carla thanked her friend was more, dipping her fingertips into the water and sighing longingly at the warmth. Baths at her home were few and far between. Most days she was lucky if she was able to fill the sink, washing herself down using cold water, trying not to think about what had flaked off the taps and ended up in the sink along with it. She could have happily laid there all night, submerged in the comforting scent of the strawberry shampoo she associated Michelle with, having now washed her own hair in it. It wasn't until her stomach started growling, and after she'd played around with the shaving foam on the side of the bath, that she reluctantly pulled herself out of the tub, wrapping the warmed towel around her body.

"When was the last time you brushed this?" Michelle sighed, gathering the damp, matted mess that was Carla's hair, clumped together with knots, even more-so now that she'd vigorously rubbed the towel against it to soak up most of the water.

"Can't remember," Carla mumbled, sat crossed legged on Michelle's bed. She was flicking through one of the magazines from the pile that was on the young girls bedside table. Even though her two older brothers had thrown complete fits at her news, it was no shock that they'd suddenly began doting on their little sister, pandering to her as though she was on her death bed. Paul had brought her endless magazines, hoping they'd keep her occupied now that she was spending so much time indoors, for her own safety while she was in the early stages. Liam had been using his money from working part time at the off licence down the road to bring her back anything she happened to be 'craving' and, judging by the pile of sweets and crisps left over even after the two girls had their fill, that Michelle had stuffed into the wide front pocket of Carla's borrowed hoodie, having insisted that she took them home with her, the young girl wasn't half playing on it. "Ugh, that's foul. What's she thinking?" Carla turned her nose up at the outfit splashed across the page, before flicking it over and jabbing her finger against the next one. "Ah, that one's better. Though the shoes from before would have suited this one."

Taking advantage of the way she was occupying herself in the glossy articles, Michelle picked up her hairbrush and stated to cautiously work the ends of the other girls hair.

"Ow, you're pulling!"

"Give over, I barely touched it!" Michelle tutted, trying to part the one huge chunk into smaller, more manageable sections. Carla wriggled defiantly against her actions, letting out another over dramatic wince. "Oh behave yourself, will you?"

"Look, where are your scissors? Just cut it all off for me, it's less hassle."

Michelle looked horrified at the thought.

"No! It'll be gorgeous once it's brushed through, look how long it is."

"It's straggly and disgusting." Carla dismissed, though made no further objections when the younger girl started her attempts to tame it once more. In fact, she was suspiciously obedient, staying almost perfectly still as Michelle continued to comb through the sections she'd finally managed to split it into. It was a long, tedious process and Carla half expected her to give up before the task was through. But she was patient, and a lot gentler than she'd anticipated. The older girl barely felt a single pull and when she had, Michelle had murmured her apologies, her actions slowing until she'd successfully located the knot and eased it loose. By the time she'd freed her hair from all of its tangles, Carla had started to relax against the gentle strokes of the brush, enjoying the feeling of the soft bristles massaging her scalp.

"There, it's lovely now." Michelle smiled, allowing her fingertips to glide through the damp tresses, satisfied with her work. She leaned over Carla's shoulder, resting her chin there to see what the older girl was reading. "I like her hair." She reached out and pointed to a red haired woman, who wore it loose and wavy, save for a pretty braid that was weaved into the side of it. "Hey, can I plait yours?"

"Go for it," Carla laughed, tipping her head back slightly when the younger girl's fingers wound through her hair once more, sighing softly at the sensation. It was comforting and probably the closest Carla had ever come to having someone take care of her. It was all too easy to give up on yourself when it seemed everyone else had too.

"It must be nice to look like that," Carla muttered, exhaling longingly at the glamorous women on the pages spread across her knees. Their styled hair, pristine clothes, designer handbags, glittering jewellery that was worth more than she would ever earn in a lifetime. A life she could only dream of...

"You blow them lot out of the water!" Michelle exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively at the page. "You could easily be a model."

Carla let out a scoff of disbelief, turning to the mirrored panel of Michelle's wardrobe and eyeing her reflection with distaste.

"Although I think you have more brains, maybe you'd be good as a fashion designer. You've got an eye for that kind of thing." Michelle nodded, continuing to wind the other girls hair into the intricate braid she was creating, shuffling slightly to accommodate the fact that Carla seemed unable to keep still.

"'Chelle, are _you_ high?" The older girl laughed, her expression concerned as she glared at the girl through the mirror. "Or has pregnancy addled your own brain?"

"You're intelligent, Carla." Was all she offered in response, her tongue peeking out from between her lip in concentration as she got to the end of the plait, securing it with one of her hair ties.

"You're on crack, Michelle."

The young girl span her friend around to face her, raising her eyebrow. "You act like you're thick, but you're not. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to come with all those comments you throw at the teachers. They're mean and they're vulgar, but they are witty. And fast. You can't do that unless you're smart. Even if it means you're a smart ass, too." Michelle insisted, giving Carla two pointed prods on the shoulder. "You've wrote yourself off, probably in defence, but I know you have the ability to make something of yourself."

The older girl opened her mouth, her first instinct to make a smart comment about how Michelle sounded like every single teacher who'd tried to win her around before writing her off as a lost cause, but Michelle looked so sure and sincere, her hazel eyes shining with faith, that her words suddenly got caught in her throat. It was a genuine belief, coming from someone who knew what a complete disaster she was. Michelle had the ability to seem like she was so young, innocent, but often displayed that she had such a mature head on her shoulders. Carla forgot just how well the young girl could read people. Well, her at least. She glanced down at her hands, allowing herself a few seconds to swallow the lump that was starting to grow in her throat, before reaching out and clasping hold of Michelle's.

"You're going to be such a good mum, 'Chelle," was all she whispered, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. They were so warm, comfortable. Or maybe hers were cold. Carla was always cold, she rarely ever felt it, but her skin was often icy to the touch, probably from the lack of flesh on her bones.

"And you're going to be that cool Aunt who lets my kid get away with murder." Michelle smiled, running her fingertips down the French braid she'd weaved neatly into Carla's hair, sliding it over her shoulder. The older girl turned back to the mirror to admire it, stroking her own hand down the silky strands of hair, soft to the touch now Michelle had taken the time to care for it.

"Pretty," Carla murmured in approval, winding her fingertips around the end of it. With any luck, if it stayed in place, she could wear it like this for the next day or two.

" _You_ are." Michelle affirmed, touching a swift kiss to her cheek, before pulling back the duvet and shuffling into it, patting the space next to her. Even though she preferred to sleep near the wall, on the rare occasions Carla had stayed over, much to Helen's distaste, Michelle gave up her favourite sleeping spot because she knew it was also Carla's. It wasn't often the older girl got a full night's sleep, somewhere warm, where she didn't have to keep an ear out for anything that she might have to jump out and run from, so when given the opportunity, she liked being able to make sure her best friend was as comfortable as she could be.

Waiting until Carla had slid herself into the sheets with her, Michelle reached across and flipped the switch on her lamp, sending the room into instant darkness. It always concerned the younger girl just how little space Carla took up in the bed when she laid on her side, how she could feel the ridges of her ribs when she wound an arm around her frame. She was so caught up in stressing over her tiny figure that she didn't realised the older girl's body was suddenly rigid. That's when she remembered.

"God, Carla, sorry," she whispered, pushing herself back up. "We can sleep with the lamp on if you want?"

Carla didn't like the dark. She needed to be able to see. It wasn't safe if she couldn't see, she needed to know who it was that was stumbling around in the dark, she needed to see if anyone fell into her room and onto her bed, too drunk or high to realise she was there. Or worse, when they knew full well she was there. Alone. When her mum was out in town or passed out in a corner, and George's mates had been kicked out of the pub so they were all crammed up into the tiny apartment, Carla couldn't have the light off. She needed to see into every corner of her poky room, make sure no one was slumped in the corner. She had to be alert.

"Carla?" When she hadn't answered, when she could feel her body shaking beside her, Michelle had leaned over and in the artificial orange light that streamed from beneath the curtains was startled to see that the older girl's face was streaked with tears. "Babe, come here," Michelle gentle pulled on her shoulder, coaxing her around to face her. "Talk to me, tell me what happened..."

It was clear that Carla was ready to, this time. Michelle had anticipated that at some point she would, she usually did. She'd be defensive at first, then fine all the while she was distracted. Only when things had calmed, at night or that part when she'd been drunk and was starting to sober up, would she eventually crack and try to let her in.

"I _hate_ them, Michelle." She whispered, so much venom in her tone as she curled into the other girls welcoming frame. "I can't stand being around them, all they care about is getting their next fix."

Michelle stayed quiet, running soothing circles on the older girl's back. There wasn't anything she could say to make things right, she knew that. She couldn't sit and tell Carla it would get better, even though she was determined things would, because that didn't help the girl _now._ Michelle had soon worked out that all Carla really needed was someone who would listen to her, who would understand that it wasn't the life she chose for herself, so wouldn't judge her for the situation she'd wound up in. So that's exactly what Michelle did for her, allowed her to rant, allowed her a voice. "They were so washed they couldn't even remember drinking the whiskey from under the sink. They tried blaming me and Rob, and he wasn't even there." She sniffed, the younger girl's hair tickling her cheek when she nuzzled into the crook of her neck, wetting her skin with tears.

"Is that what all the shouting was about?"

Carla nodded, tensing slightly, her arms tightening around Michelle as she allowed herself to finally relish in the comfort the other girl always provided her with. "They wouldn't believe me, of course. Insisted I was a lying little bitch. George was trying to get mam to throw me out. He said they could, now I was sixteen. I told them I'd rather be in the gutter than with them." She scoffed, more tears leaking from her eyes. "He told me it's where I belonged. So I went for him."

"Carla, you didn't?" Michelle whispered, she sounded terrified. "What did he too?"

"Grabbed hold of me and threw me across the room." The emotion had left her tone, she'd stated it as a fact, as though daring Michelle to pity her. "That's when your dad came around."

"I didn't want to be alone, not with everything that's ha-" The younger girl began, as tactful as her father, but Carla cut across her.

"I know why he came to get me, why you wanted me to come around." She sighed, feeling shame creep to her cheeks, heat up her skin. Had the lights been on, it would have been a stark contrast of pink against white. "George's right, I belong in the gutter."

"Are you serious?" Michelle knew she was, before she'd even asked. Carla's lack of a response reaffirmed it.

"I just don't understand... You love your baby, don't you? Already. It's there. It's unconditional." She mused out loud, sounding confused, upset, her tone heavy. "I was a mistake. I shouldn't have been here. She wishes she'd never had me and I wish she hadn't either."

"Please don't say that." The young girl whispered into the dark, sounding tearful herself. Her hand found its way up to Carla's cheek, using the pad of her thumb to brush away the tears that were still dampening her skin. She'd found her heart clenching painfully at the older girl's words, as much as he could understand why Carla would say them.

"I guess I'm just not one of those people that others really love-"

"Carla, _I_ love you." The word's left her lips so obviously, so sincerely, such a simple statement but full of meaning. It hadn't been said out of pity, for lack of anything better to say, she'd meant it. "You're my best friend and I'm glad you're here."

"'Chelle..." Carla had no idea how to respond, she'd never thought about it until the younger girl had said it. She supposed she'd always assumed their friendship was one of convenience, and she supposed that's how it had stated. They were a similar age, went to the same school, lived across from one another, got on well and it wasn't like everyone jumped to be friends with kids from an estate. Although, Michelle was popular enough at school with a sweet disposition and a cleanly appearance, though fiery if you got on the wrong side of her. Carla was sure that had most of the year not been terrified she'd deck them, she herself would fall straight to the bottom of the social ranks. But Michelle friendship had extended beyond hanging around at home and being nice to her at school and she supposed she'd been more than accommodating herself; stealing from school for her, the protectiveness she'd felt when Dean had freaked out after learning Michelle was pregnant. These weren't selfish feelings, when had she stopped merely looking out for number one and allowed Michelle to slip beneath her emotional barrier? She couldn't really pin point when it had happened, she seemed to have slowly wormed her way in.

"You're not right in the head, babe," she murmured, leaning in so that her forehead was lightly resting against Michelle's, a hint of a smile forming across her lips.

"That makes two of us then, doesn't it?" Michelle teased quietly, giggling when she felt Carla give her a gentle poke in the side. "Things _will_ work out, I promise."

"You're always so sure of that." Carla's voice had slowed to a sleepy slur.

"Because I'm not giving up on you, that's why. Even if you give up on yourself, I won't leave you here. I'll take you with me." She assured the older girl, her voice low and soothing, stroking a gentle fingertip down the side of her face. "But I know you won't need me to, I know you're going to make something of yourself."

She could see Carla fighting against the rest she so desperately needed, it was instinctual, a survival habit and that's exactly why Michelle knew that she had more in her. There was still fight left in her because if she had given up, she'd succumb to the pull of what her family were. And deep down, buried in the embers of hope despite having insisted that fire had been doused long ago, Carla knew too.

"I love you as well." Perhaps it was the fatigue, maybe she was losing just a little of the strength it took to keep her walls up, or maybe there was just something about this friendship that didn't make admitting this feel like a weakness. Michelle's lips were soft against her forehead as the young girl pressed a gentle kiss against her skin, lingering for a moment.

"Go to sleep, Carla."

It wasn't the first or last time that these nights would happen. Neither of them knew whether Michelle's promise of a future for them both would ring true or whether it was just a form of comfort for the both of them. But for now, she'd take it. Cuddling up into the warmth that Michelle's body and the adequately thick duvet over them provided, she slid her own arms around the younger girl and finally allowed her eyes to fall closed, giving into the exhaustion that had set in her bones. Her problems would be back, but she was full and warm, sleepy and being held like she was cared for. Tomorrow could take care of itself. She was safe for a night.

 **A/n: sorry for all the fluff. I needed a big hug.**


End file.
